The Faces Of Poverty

A few days ago, after returning from another trip to Haiti, it occured to me that I might be spending a great deal of my paid time in the poorest places on earth. That might perhaps be why I see the world as having two faces; the well-off and the absolute poor. So I looked it up.

Sure enough, measured in GDP per capita that is exactly what I do. Moldova is Europe's poorest country. Haiti is the poorest in the Americas. Afghanistan is the poorest in Asia. The only country I am missing, and the poorest on Earth, is Burundi in Africa (which I am trying not to visit any time soon).

Compare the following average annual per capita GDPs for example; Moldova USD 1,400 (tied with Djibouti and Papua New Guinea), Haiti USD 800 (tied with Benin, Cambodia, Chad, Kenya, Laos, Lesotho and the Solomon Islands) and Afghanistan USD 400 (tied with the Central African Republic and in the bottom 10 countries of the world). That's USD 33 to 117 a month. Egypt isn't much better than Moldova at USD 2,100.

I actually lived in one of these places for a year. Even with money it was not pleasant. Daily living just grinds down the soul. For example, this

fellow is selling phone calls from a wireless phone at a gas station. Most Haitians can't make phone calls any other way. There are no public phones (or other utilities of any kind) in most places and many can't afford services on cell phones.

To provide perspective, the opposite ends of spectrum are Lichtenstein in Europe (USD 145,700), the US in the Americas (USD 46,900) and Qatar in Asia (USD 124,000). It is the difference between skyscrapers and mud brick houses, clean tapwater and brackish wells with buckets, hospitals and buying pharmaceuticals by the pill from street vendors.

I have an ever-shrinking tolerance for people who complain about not getting what they deserve; not having the latest thing-a-ma-bob; not being treated fairly. I think it comes from walking the streets and rubbing shoulders with these people on a monthly basis. I suspect many of our immigrant ancestors were very like these people; resilient, clever, resourceful and patient. It makes me wonder what untapped genetic potential is yet lying in reserve in ourselves generations later, waiting for a real challenge?

In Timeless Company

On my most recent trip to Egypt, I made some time to walk in the footsteps of kings, philosophers and priests on both the "living," or eastern, and "dead" western sides of the Nile. While it was a far different experience than visiting the Pyramids or the catacombs of Alexandria, it was no less inspiring.

The ancient Egyptians believed that in addition ot preparing and preserving their bodies, organs and souls for the most pleasant possible afterlife, that the quality of their afterlife would also be improved the more people remembered them. In this the New Kingdom Pharohs surpassed their Pyrmaid bulding ancesters of 3500 years before. Their crypts were hidden from view. But their temples on the Nile's side of the living to this day inspire mention and rememberance of their names. So in a sense they have succeded.

This image is of the priests' court of the Temple of Ramses III (1186-1157 BC) at Medinet Habu outside Luxor (ancient Thebes). The Temple is impressive. It has three courtyards, which range from the outer for daily exercises of the soldiery, the central for rites to the gods and the inner solely for the mummification of the Pharoh. To invoke memory of the Pharoh the pylons are decorated with scenes of the Pharoh subjugating 316 kingdoms and riding over the enemy with his chariot. The outer gates are unique; designed as gates from Babylon where the Pharoh learned of the technique while subjugating the kingdom. They even sport carved heads of enemy kings hanging from the walls (which was common practice in those days).

Just as impressive is the reconstructed Temple of Hatshepsut (1479-1457 BC), located on the side of the dead. The only female Pharoh in Egypt's history, she set out to make as big a splash as possible to be remembered. She built her unique Temple into the mountainside at what is now called Deir al-Bahari. As the only way she could be accepted as Pharoh was as a man, she was known to have dressed as one in life and death. And just to assure her phallic point was remembered, hers is the tallest obelisk at the Temple of Amun-Re. It was tipped in gold, as the older Pyramids.

The Temple of Amun-Re (Karnak) in Luxor (ancient Thebes) is the site of over 2000 years of worship of the sun god Amun-Re. Walking its paths keeping this in mind is humbling. The Temple is scattered with various additions, revisions and subtractions made by the Pharohs from 2056 BC to the Ptolomaic Greeks and Romans in 395 AD. And for all that time the worship of the sun god persisted.

The Greeks too made their mark. While in Alexandria quite by chance I stumbled across the remains of a part of the ancient Musaeum of Alexandria. Thinkers taught in its halls and invented scientific principles like Euclid's geometry, Archimedes' pi, the scientific method, human vivisection, the mechanical organ, and measurement of the circumference of the Earth, among others. Crunching the gravel under my feet I tried to imagine walking in sandels and a toga while pondering the area of a circle, or sitting in a lecture by Plato in the theater.

Even without pyramids the Pharohs still fascinate. The New Kingdom Pharohs are all buried in a small valley (Valley of the Kings) under a mountain with the proportions of a pyramid. The idea was to be buried in unmarked graves to prevent the robbery of the earlier Pyramids. They really are almost indistinguisable from the rock slides around them.

These modest graves resonate with names like Ramses II, III (the largest grave) and IX, Seti I and of course Tutankhamun. Painted with colors ground and separated from onyx stone, they are still vibrant and memorable. The crypts were meant to be homes for the resurrected Pharohs, decorated with chapters from the Book of the Dead to provide guidance during the journey to the afterlife. The gods, wearing their animal masks, and ankhs, symbols of duality, abound. They attract visitors to their intriguing walls, keeping the Pharohs alive thousands of years later.

In Trajan's Footsteps

The Roman Emperor Trajan is most famous for his defeat of the Dacians in what is present day Romania, Moldova and parts of Bulgaria. He has a monument in Rome in his own Forum marking the event, neither of which I've yet seen.

I did however get to visit the Colosseum, or the Flavian Ampitheater as it is properly called, on a recent layover on my way to Moldova. It was a fitting stop, as Trajan apparently held games there commemerating his victory involving 7,000 gladiators and 10,000 wild animals.

The Flavian dynasty was founded by Emperor Vespasian, famous for his involvement in the Roman conquest of Britain, as well as the Siege of Jerusalem and the fall of Masada, led by his son Titus. Ironically, Vespasian's son Domitian is known for being unable to defeat the Dacians led by King Decebalus whom Trajan later destroyed. Titus later reigned during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius which buried Pompeii.

Vespasian constructed the modern day Colosseum as a way to entertain the rebellious masses who had played a key role in overthrowing his predecessor Nero. Performances were accompanied by free bread and wine for all attendees, part of the origins of the term "bread and circuses". Entrace was also free. Seating was by social status, with the nobility at ringside and the poorest women on the fourth or uppermost tier. There were 64 numbered doors to let spectators in and out that were called vomitoria. Door numbers corresponded with where citizens lived in the city, so each person knew their place.

The tallest Roman structure, the Colosseum could hold 87,000 spectators and several hundred wild animals. The colosseum was about 160 feet high and covered about six acres. For all that, the first thing I noticed when I visited was that it is much smaller than I had imagined it. After Soldier Field, it seemed quite cozy. Movable awnings called velarium manned by imperial sailors provided the spectators with shade from the sun. The outside of the Flavian amphitheater has three rows of arches, each built according to a different order of architecture, Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian.

There were substructures under the fighting areas that included animal dens. Recent research suggests that contrary to popular belief Christians were not generally fed to wild animals in the Colosseum. However, it was a common sentence for most crimes during the period in the Roman Empire, and feedings occured during the mid-day break and at the end of the day's events. For centuries the Colosseum was marked by shrines to Stations of the Cross and the Pope today begins his visit to Stations of the Cross in the Colosseum on Good Friday.


Before he held his celebration in the Colosseum, Trajan first journeyed to Romania and defeated the Dacians. He made the journey on foot with a mixed army of Romans and foreign mercenaries. I thought about this as I was flying to Moldova, as I found my American Airlines tickets were sold and resold to subcontracting Hungarian, Italian and Moldovan airlines. I wondered if Trajan wondered who he was actually fighting for when he finally arrived?

Fortunately, Moldova has a tremendous wine-making industry that was brought to the world stage under the Roman Empire. It has blossomed since the collapse of the Soviet Union and exports all over the world. One local variety, Negru de Purcari, has been ordered by the British royalty since Queen Victoria. This apparently makes it very popular with today's Japanese.

During my trip I made a visit to Miliestii Mici, the largest wine collection in the world, where you take the cellar tour in your car driving through the barrels. The tour is topped off with a four course meal and a variety of wines on offer and samples to take home. Fortunately, I had my wine travel bag so my bottles made it home safely.

Around The World And Back Again

Over the last 90 days I have had the opportunity visit several of the world's cities built by colonialism and trade; Singpore, Hong Kong and Panama City. Perhaps the most remarkable thing I have to report is that they are generally unremarkable. Uniformly consisting of tall buildings of glass, oceanfront views, traffic congestion and upscale shopping, they were all a welcome relief from my usual travel fare. However, I could have stayed home and experienced the same thing?

Perhaps the most interesting part of my most recent travel was that I flew around the world. To the Flat Earth Society, I thumb my nose. Raleigh--New York--Hong Kong--Singapore--London--Raleigh is not quite a full circumfurential route, but 20,000 miles later I count it as close enough. (The Earth's circumference is 24,901.55 miles at the equator.)

Of the three cities Singapore was perhaps the most interesting. I loved its blend of cultures and people. A majority of its population is Chinese, with substantial Malay and Indian minorities. Its British colonial founders gave it the gift of English as a national language which makes it convenient for the Chinese- and Malay-challenged traveler like me. While the heat was oppresive, the fresh tropical foods were a pleasant change from my usual fare of overcooked (safe) meat and French fries. I took the opportunity to learn about its history and that of neighboring Hong Kong in between snoozes on the long flight over by reading an excellent history titled Empire's End by John Keay which a good friend had given me many years before.

With its fusion of Asian cultures, Singapore provided excellent one-stop exposure to the people of the region. I had the opportunity to visit the Asian Civilizations Museum which had exhibits on each of the peoples of South East Asia. There was even a special travelling exhibit from the People's Republic of China on the Kangxi Emperor (1662-1722) with fascinating examples of the Mandarin civil service exam, silk textiles and arms and armor of the Emporer with a distinctly Central Asian flair. I was particularly struck by the signature stamps, which I had only read about previously and seen on some artwork. I topped this off with a visit to a Mahayana Buddhist temple and shopping in Chinatown for silk garments from Shanghai. In all a whirlwind cross-cultural experience.

However, I can honestly say that our family vacation to Hilton Head Island upon my return was infinitely more enjoyable; mostly because of the time I spent with my family. Imagine travelling around the planet only to find that there is "no place like home," or at least a nearby beach.

Albanian Connections

Over the last several months I have spent a number of days in Tirana, Albania. It is not a place I ever imagined I would find myself, so I was surprised by how pleasant it is. It is a small town with a city center that can be walked from any point to any other. Lots of trees, green spaces and modest high rise buildings compliment a quaint atmosphere.

In fact, it reminded me much of Chisinau. Moldova and Albania share the unfortunate distinction of being the two of the three poorest countries in Europe (per capita GDP). So prices for almost everything are low and there is little exotic to be had. The basics are all available in abundance. Just few high priced ticket items or entertainment outlets. A nice place to raise children would be a good assessment. Not too flashy, yet wholesome. Kind of like the kids on the gas-powered ATVs driving the downtown center square.

Like the Moldovans, the Albanians take pride in the little they do have; primarily their history and culture. In learning about it, I was struck by how often I continue to find relationships between events and places which you would think have no bearing on one another.

Consider, for example, that the hotel where I stay when in Cairo is a converted palace built by the son of Ottoman ruler who conquered Egypt and created its modern national identity. I had no idea Mehmet Ali was an Albanian. You certainly can't tell from the palace design.

Or consider Albanian languages. I understand Albania has a Vlach minority. I had hoped to test my Romanian on these speakers of a different form of the language while wandering the countryside, but it did not happen. I was however able to read some Albanian, as some of the vocabulary is from Turkish as is some Romanian.

Simiarly, some Albanian-speaking Roma in Albania called themselves Egyptians and claim to originate in Egypt. It is odd that the Egyptian connection should surface again on the shores of the Adriatic. I saw some "Egyptians" at a cafe in Tirana one afternoon. They are indeed strikingly different, though they do not look like any Egyptians I have ever seen.

Fortunately, I was able to handle the menus because they were in Italian. The Italian puppet state under King Zog in Albania, and then Fascist Italian occupation of Albania, left a mark on cuisine and urban life in Tirana which remains to this day. The Italians rebuilt the main street of the city in a distinctly Roman style and all the major restaurants serve Italian food. Lucky for me, as I can read and order from an Italian menu. English is a rarity in Albania. Italian and French are far more common second languages.

As if this isn't coincidence enough, then there are the Bektashi. Bektashi is a gnostic form of Islamic faith in Albania based on variety of sufism. As if by design, I happen to be reading a book on the origins of Gnosticism in Central Asia at the time and was able to slip into this important element of Albanian national identity fairly easily.

Where Old School Buses Go To Die

I have made several trips to Haiti over recent years. Given the country's desparate poverty and rampant kidnapping activity, I don't get out much while I'm there. Most of what I have seen has been from behind the locked doors of an SUV, or wandering a quiet back street of a rural village.

However, I have seen enough. Haiti has a per capita annual GDP of USD 1316, making it one of the poorest places on Earth. It has been stripped bare of vegetation for consumption and fuel and the Haitians have resorted to digging chalk out of hillsides on the side of the road to thin construction cement to make it go further. Some of the poorest Haitians make a dish which is essentially cookies made of mud which they sell on the street.

Consider for example this map of Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti, which I took from my hotel room at the Villa Creole. The seashore is on the left. As you move to the right, or uphill, the roads simply end in a giant blank area. This would be where the core of the city lives. Houses are built of whatever material is at hand and roads are unpaved tracks which cannot be mapped.

Until you arrive on the right-hand side of the map, which is Petionville. While we see pictures of starving children, mud cookies and schools buried in mudslides due to deforestation, what we do not hear about is the 5% of the Haitian population which lives very comfortably in relative wealth in Petionville on the mountainsides. These are the educated elite, often with relatives in the United States or France.

For most Haitians though, daily life is difficult. Use of public transportation is common, generally consisting of tap-taps, shiny tricked out vehicles painted with religious slogans very much like the Jeepney used in the Philippines. Where tap-taps aren't available, almost anything imaginable gets pressed into service. Seeing large trucks with people piled on top careening down the street is not uncommon.

This includes our old schoolbuses which are pressed into service as mass transit vehicles. Who knows how their old bones arrive on this impoverished island, along with all the other 10-20 year old cars of US manufacture. But there they are, with their Haitian routes painted on their doors next to their original cities of US ownership. I remember pulling up to my first one and seeing "Petionville-Centreville" and "W. Berlin, NJ" juxtaposed on the same panel. Their drivers make good use of the flashing signals at night; they simply leave them running as they drive as there are no street lights in Haiti.

Haitians are nothing if not enterprising. They have to be to survive. On my last trip I was hustled by a taxi driver at the airport who was looking for a fare. When the airport security guards came to push him out the door, he kept asking if he could have the "blanc" fare; "blanc" being the lone white man in the airport (me). I understand enough French (or Creole) to have figured that one out.

Driving down a street in Port-au-Prince, or over the 6 hour mountain road to Jacmel, is never dull. It is usually a riot of open air markets blocking the road, grade school children in uniforms skipping about, burning trash, tap-taps loaded with bodies, chickens, goats and graves. I have yet to see any signs of voodoo, but I know its practiced by 60% of the population from my survey work. Perhaps next time?

Eight Hours In Rome

I recently had the opportunity to enjoy a 8 hour layover in Rome. Rome is a big place, so I picked something to see which could be thoroughly covered in 8 hours minus taxi time. St Peter's Basilica and the Castel St. Angelo were the selections of the day.

St. Peter's sits at the heart of the Vatican City; independent country, seat of the Pope and heart of the Catholic Church. The city, in turn, sits in the middle of the city of Rome. It has been independent of Rome and Italy since 1929. It is the smallest country in the world, by any measure.

The Vatican City consists of far more than just St. Peter's Basilica and Square. There are delicious museums, well manicured gardens, an art gallery and of course offices of the various bodies of the Holy See. But the Basilica and Square are the heart of it all.

St. Peter's Square, in front of the Basilica, is by tradition the site of the crucifixion and burial of St. Peter in 64 A.D. Interestingly, at the time it was a Roman circus, Nero's Circus, of which the stolen Egyptian obelisk from Heliopolis still remains as the focal point. More recently, the actual burial site of St. Peter has been unearthed north of the circus in a pre-Constantinian necropolis. I intend to visit him on my next opportunity.

St Peter's Basilica itself is immense. It is the second Basilica, having been built on top of the original which Emperor Constantine consecrated in 329 A.D. The interior of the building itself is magnificent. It is hard to grasp just how big it really is, even when standing inside the dome and looking down.

Constantine's original basilica was built over the traditional tomb of St. Peter. For me, the tomb of Pope John Paul II in the grottos under the Basilica was perhaps the most moving moment of the visit. While I can remember the Pope and his moral leadership in life, I was struck by the emotional reverance of a Filipino man who was kneeling in tears, praying in front of the tomb. He was surrounded by a shuffling, oblivious crowd of tourists who parted around him as they passed. This man was however so committed, so absorbed by his passion, that he had closed his eyes and blocked these hundreds from his mind. It was moving just to see him.


The Catholic Church has of course not survived for 2000 years on faith alone. The Pope has a personal bodyguard of 134 Pontifical Swiss Guards. Since 1506, the Guards have been recruited from Catholic males with prior service in the Swiss military to provide personal protection for the Pope. To this day the Guards continue in this tradition, wearing the uniforms and carrying the weapons of the 16th century.

The guards played a role in protecting the Pope at the Castel St. Angelo. The Castel is attached to the Vatican City via a raised fortified passage over the streets along an old city wall. The Castel itself was originally the tomb of the Emperor Hadrian. It became a virtually impregnable fortress from the later Roman period onwards. I had the good fortune to arrive during a festival week of Roman culture and history, so the Castel was open late and free of charge. Wandering the tunnels and chambers, I could see the complexity of an assault.

For those who are opera lovers, the final scenes of Puccini's Tosca should come to mind. The Castel had come to have a reputation for torture and political imprisonment at the time of the opera's setting. Those final scenes are set on the ramparts of the Castel and the opera closes with Tosca throwing herself from the battements to her death on the rocks below.

The St. Angelo bridge in front of the Castel was built in 239 A.D. across the river Tiber to lead from the city of Rome to the tomb. It was originally called the Elian Bridge. Apparently in later periods, its statues were added depicting scenes from the Passion of Christ and were adorned with the heads of prisoners executed in the Castel, hung to serve as reminders to the living.

Greek and Egyptian

I continue to be fascinated by the many faces of Egypt. On my last trip I had the opportunity to return to Alexandria on the shore of the Mediterranean and explore some of its history.

The city of Alexandria was established on by Alexander the Great on the site of a smaller Egyptian coastal town after he conquered Egypt. First under the Greeks, then the Romans, and finally the Byzantines, it served as the capital of Egypt and home to the Ptolomaic Pharohs, including Cleopatra. As such, it is distinctly different from Arabic Cairo with a Graeco-Roman, Christian foundation overlaid with a modern Islamic, Mediterranean facing society I find fascinating.

Alexandria was the home to 2 of the 7 wonders of the ancient world; the Pharos Lighthouse and the ancient Library of Alexandria. The lighthouse apparently stood from the time of the ancient Greeks through the Crusades and was eventually brought low by an earthquake. Its remains have recently been discovered in the water off a jetty.

If you stand on that jetty where the tower once stood and look back across the bay, you see the post-modern Library of Alexandria. Very much a modern library and museum, it stands in the middle of the old Greek city.

The ancient Library was the home of some of the greatest minds of antiquity. It was as much a university, or Museum, as it was a library. It was originally founded by students of Aristotle, which included Alexander the Great. Great innovations included hydraulics, mathematical map-making, Euclidian geometry, Archimedes discovery of pi, spherical geometry, as well as innovations in anatomy and astronomy.

The Ptolomaic Pharohs also created a strange combination of Egyptian, Greek, Roman and eventually Christian religions in an attempt to bring together Greek and Egyptian subjects. This included the worship of Serapis, who was at once Osiris, Pluto or Hades, and eventually also Jesus.

This is perhaps most evident in burial sites. I had the opportuity to explore a extensive underground catacomb burial in Alexandria called the Catacombs of Kom el-Shuqafa.It is a fascinating and very elaborate underground cemetery. I had images of a Dungeons and Dragons adventure as I was wandering around the chambers and staircases. The walls bore images of Serapis's Apis bull with a sun disk we all know so well from Charles Heston's The Ten Commandments.

I look forward to my next visit to Alexandria. Perhaps I will be able to reach the El Alamein battle ground which is accessed via a road from the city.

Sachertorte, Scotch and Mamaliga

I recently had the treat of returning to Moldova. My firm has won a contract to support creating a local television network in the country, in part based on my previous work experience in the country. Who would have ever have guessed Romanian language skills and experience living in Moldova would yield again?

Moldova is one of those few countries left where the government is still run by freely elected post-Soviet Communists (think Cuba and Belrus). It also still has a cold combat zone where the ex-Soviet cum Russian-speaking 14th Army sits on one side of the Dniester river and rejects the authority of the Romanian-speaking Moldovan government based on the other. All this in a country the size of Maryland.

When I lived there 12 years ago, the capital was a provincial center of concrete-built Soviet architecure. There were few street lights. The heat didn't work in the winter. Black outs were common. You bought gasoline from petrol truck parked on the side of the road and rode the bus next to a chicken. The village was right out of the 16th century, except for eletricity and television, complete with a common well.

Today, Moldova is in the midst of the free-wheeling capitalization changes Moscow experienced 5-10 years ago. The streets of Chisinau are brightly lit and lined by high-end storefronts. Hotels with Western amenities are available. Grocery stores and casinos abound. Underneath it all however is the old Moldova; streets thronged with fashionably-dressed people chatting with neighbors, small shops and restaurants selling the basics for almost nothing, and the atmosphere of a small, French provicial capital made of concrete.

I had several excellent meals with the growing family of an old friend from my previous days in Moldova. Placenta (pla-chen-ta), mamaliga and the ever excellent Moldovan wines were laid out on the lace-covered table. It is a diplomatic family now, last living in Berlin. I enjoyed chatting with the son in German and Romanian and the grown ups in English. The placenta were excellent, coming from the Opera House where I used to spend my Saturday evenings many years ago. My old comrade and I also shared a lunch in an excellent ethnic Moldovan restaurant under the image of the Moldovan icon Saint Stephen the Great.

As frosting on the experience, I transited through the airport in Vienna to and from the country. You can't get to Moldova direct from anywhere. Though the time was short, it was a joy to use my German on some natives along the way. Of course, some Sachertorte, apple strudel and soft pretzels were obligatory.

I thoroughly enjoyed speaking with the people around me from Washington to Chisinau and back. On each leg of the journey were combinations of German, English, Romanian and Russian speakers. It is a completely different experience when you know the languages of the people on every step of your journey. I don't get that opportunity very often. The Austrian was quaint.

The Scotchman was the exception.

For the first time in my many travels, I was seated next to the proverbial passenger who won't stop talking. It was the brief flight from Vienna to Chisinau, which was fortunate. Though he was speaking English, I could not understand a word he was saying. And he wouldn't stop.

He also kept showing up. Chisinau is a small place, even smaller for those who don't speak the languages. I ran into him in the hotel elevator. As soon appeared, he would start talking incomprehensibly. I passed him a breakfast and he stood by table, or sat down at it uninvited, and started talking. I quickly learned to avoid public spaces at the hotel.

I look forward to going back soon. Perhaps I will return to the largest wine cellar in the world on my next trip; Milestii Mici. I'll just pray my airplane seatmates speak a language I understand, or don't speak at all.